


Spectrum

by Engineer104



Series: The Song of the Dragon - A Wheel of Time AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Minor Violence, Shallura if you squint, Wheel of Time basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: When Allura set out from her devastated homeland to search for the Dragon Reborn, she did not expect to also find three young Paladins and a missing war veteran in an Arusian backwater, anymore than she expected the Galra attack right after.





	Spectrum

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing so here's a Wheel of Time (but also...not really) AU that no one asked for but, let's be real, people totally needed (unless it's been done before, in which case...uh)
> 
> The funny thing is that my approach to writing fic is to marathon it and write basically nonstop (if the muse strikes...you never know when it will hit) until I finish it, but this one is strange because I wrote less than half of it a few weeks ago, left it alone and open on my computer, then came back to it. I'm actually...sort of pleased with it??
> 
> Also you may ask if I will ever stop using Florence + the Machine songs as titles; and the answer to that question is no, no I will not. (Listen to them and tell me that they are not perfect fantasy soundtrack - and a little Voltron to be honest - material, I dare you)

**== What the Water Gave Me ==**

It rained in Arus. It _stormed_ in Arus. And it _flooded_ in Arus.

It was barely spring, and yet the snowmelt from the mountains already flowed in creeks and streams into the river - already wide, getting wider - that Allura and Coran needed to cross.

Allura glanced at Coran, who raised an eyebrow at her. Water trickled down from the hem of his hood and soaked into his already dripping mustache; if she did not feel so miserably damp as well, she might have laughed at the sight.

"It is unsafe to cross the river even in the ferry when it's flooding," claimed the ferrymaster. "I apologize...Lady." He looked at her hesitantly, obviously unsure how to address her. 'Lady' was accurate enough however, so she did not bother correcting him.

Besides, the fewer who recognized her _true_ position, the better.

Allura frowned at him, the only indication of her frustration. Then she conceded that the ferrymaster was right, it was unsafe, better to wait for the floods to die down.

"Very well," she told him. "How long must I wait?"

"Perhaps a week," said the ferrymaster, tone apologetic. "Perhaps longer."

Too long. Allura pursed her lips but nodded. "I will remain in town until then," she decided. She looked at Coran.

Coran seemed more hesitant to leave the ferrymaster even than her, looking once more from Allura to him before following her down the puddle-spotted street, past carts laden with goods covered in tarps and their unhappy-looking plow horses.

"Are you sure about waiting, Princess?" Coran asked her quietly.

"Please don't call me that where others can hear, Coran," Allura reminded him. She glanced around, wary of eavesdroppers...and of hidden friends of the Shadow. As they searched for a likely inn, she added, "Perhaps _this_ is the town." She tried to sound hopeful, upbeat.

Coran did not look convinced. "If that was the case, Prin--Allura, then you would not be so agitated about the flooding."

Allura sighed. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," she said. Usually the familiar phrase comforted her when situations felt too far out of her control, but now it seemed too much like a false platitude.

"We'll find him, Coran," Allura said. "I know we will, but the question is, when? And what if it's too late?"

"I do not know the answer to that," Coran told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But I know you're doing the best you can; your father would be proud."

Allura smiled at him, warming despite the cold rain. "Thank you," she said.

She would wait for the floods to recede as long as she had to; the Shadow had given her nothing if not patience.

\---

**== How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful ==**

After the first clean spring storm and on the eve of the Winternight festival, Lance went into town with his father, their wagon laden with several casks of cider ready to deliver to the Falling Star, Garrison Field's sole inn. His father walked ahead of him, beside Taylor, the old family mare, while Lance lingered behind to keep watch for anything suspicious, or perhaps some game for dinner, his hand on his bow.

The sky was that beautiful blue that only seemed to come after a long storm, one that made the sky gray and black and white with churning clouds threatening violence. It put Lance into a cheerful mood, and he looked forward to spending the day in town and seeing his friends while his father sold cider to Colleen Holt, the innkeeper.

Taylor clopped along steadily, familiar with the road even without his father's gentle prodding. Lance yawned, disliking the monotony of the road even if the day was pleasantly warm. But then it felt cold, and the sun seemed to dim. It grew unnaturally silent, birdsong ceasing, so that the only sound was Lance's own breathing and Taylor's hooves on the road's uneven paving.

Lance glanced warily towards Taylor and his father; he wasn't sure if he imagined that there was a nervous tilt to the mare's ears, or the way his father seemed to shift his shoulders with anxiety.

He scanned the trees on either side of the road, reaching for an arrow from the quiver at his hip. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he knew he was being watched.

He did not like that he could not watch back.

Lance looked over his shoulder, and what he finally saw froze him to the ground in terror.

A figure, larger than a tall man, its face, or where its face would be, completely covered so that he saw no mouth, no eyes, no nose... It seemed to hover over the ground, and the wind did not stir its cloak, which was so black it seemed to suck the light straight from the sun.

The sky did not seem so blue anymore.

It drew a sword from its back, something long and black and unnatural, and approached. Lance let out an involuntary cry of alarm.

"Lance?" his father called, breaking some kind of trance.

Lance shuddered and glanced over his shoulder at his father, who stared at him with concern. "Don't you see it, Dad?" he demanded, pointing.

He followed the line of his finger with his eyes, which narrowed. "See what?" he asked.

Lance looked back towards the-- _thing_ and gasped. It had vanished. "I...I thought I saw..." He shook his head. "Never mind, let's just get to town."

He turned to continue their journey, smiling reassuringly at his father's questioning - and worried - glance, and deflecting his concern.

Lance tried his best not to consider how _scared_ he was.

\---

**== Ship to Wreck ==**

They had not even found an inn to take up in for the week when the ferrymaster gave chase.

"Lady! Lady from the East! Wait!"

Allura and Coran both turned abruptly to face him. The rain had since stopped, though it was no less wet, so she did not mind the delay so much as its implication. "Have you changed your mind, ferrymaster?" she asked, imperious.

"Yes, Lady," he said. "I had not expected the storm to clear so soon, so I miscalculated when we could cross."

Allura smiled, satisfied and relieved. She exchanged a glance with Coran, who looked just as glad as she felt, before returning her attention to the ferrymaster. "May I buy passage on the ferry _today_ then?"

"Yes, Lady, of course," he said, and Allura was struck by the distinct impression that he was groveling, likely because he could tell that she was a woman of status, despite her nondescript traveling cloak.

"Good!" she said. "Coran, go fetch our horses; it's time we crossed a river!" When he left to do as she'd told him, she asked the ferrymaster, "What is the name of the next town across the river, and how far is it?"

"Oh, that would be Garrison Field," replied the ferrymaster, "and it's only about two hours' ride, if your horses are well rested."

"Hmm," said Allura, smiling. Perhaps she would find what - or - she was looking for in this Garrison Field.

It was almost too perfect.

\---

**== Heartlines ==**

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck, feeling anxious for no good reason.

Not that that was _unusual_ , at least for him, but something about it felt this time. And he could not be sure, but he thought someone watched him.

His grandfather had sent him on an errand to the inn, to tell Mistress Holt that he would be late to the last-minute village council meeting. And usually Hunk felt more than comfortable - at home, cozy - weaving around and between cottages and storefronts to the town center, but uneasiness pricked insistently at his nerves.

Hunk glanced over his shoulder but saw no one except a little girl leaving the bakery with a bundle of wrapped loaves in her arms. He turned back to his path and firmed his shoulders, reminding himself that here, sleepy village that Garrison Field was, nothing more dangerous than winter storms could possibly happen.

But he knew he wasn't imagining the tall, dark figure on the path ahead.

Hunk shivered, frozen by an unseen gaze. The figure hovered over the ground, its black cloak not even rustling in the gentle breeze. He clenched his fists at his sides, waiting, anxious, wondering why he wasn't dead yet. His eyes, wide with shock and fear, were so dry that he forced himself to blink. When he opened them again the figure had vanished.

Hunk frowned and tried to relax. He compelled his legs, which felt strangely detached from his body, to take a step, then another step. He walked towards the noise of the festival preparations in the town center, half-expecting the figure to reappear and do...something. Something evil and fatal. Something of the Shadow.

He emerged into the brightness of an open market and made his way through the square towards the Falling Star, pushing the incident from his mind. It was fine; he was fine.

Lance stood leaning against the wall outside the inn, his father nearby talking to Mistress Holt. As Hunk drew closer he overheard a snatch of conversation:

"...not in a festive mood this year," Mistress Holt was saying. "And neither am I, to be honest. Not since, well."

"No one blames you if you don't wish to participate," Lance's father said, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.

"That's not the problem," she told him. "The problem is that Katie wants--" She cut herself off, glancing at Lance, who smirked at her.

"Private conversation?" Lance wondered.

Mistress Holt actually returned Lance's smile. "A conversation best saved for the council meeting." She then spotted Hunk and waved.

Hunk approached. "Mistress Holt, my grandfather sent me to tell you he'll be late to the meeting," he said.

"That's all right," she said with a shrug. "There's plenty to discuss. The war, what the peddlers are saying, the floods..." She sighed, then smiled, though this time it looked forced. "Hunk, Lance, do me a favor and take the cider down to the cellar."

Lance narrowed his eyes at the nearby cart laden with casks. "All right," he agreed. He and Hunk each took one up, while Lance's father clapped them both on the shoulder before entering the inn.

"Oh, Keith!" said Mistress Holt, her sharp eyes narrowing in on a point just over Hunk's shoulder. "Why don't you help Lance and Hunk with unloading the carts?"

Hunk looked in the direction that Mistress Holt addressed to spot Keith, who, despite his youth, was something of the town pariah, especially since the disappearance of his older brother over a year ago. As far as Hunk knew, Keith was at least still friendly with the Holts, regardless of the village gossip that enjoyed putting him - and the Holts - down sometimes.

Keith pointed at his chest, as if he could not believe that Mistress Holt addressed him, then glanced at the cart, which, in fact, contained little enough that Lance and Hunk could manage on their own. But there was no stopping Mistress Holt, who glared at him until he slouched and approached them. "I, yeah, sure," he said, barely sparing a look for Lance or Hunk.

Lance snorted as he shouldered a cask; he did not like Keith, something that stemmed from a disagreement in childhood.

Hunk, for his part, had nothing against him, even if he would not go so far as to consider them friends. He was too distant for that. But he smiled when he grabbed a cask nonetheless.

Together, they followed Lance into the inn's cellar and arranged the casks. The same path was repeated a few times, until all the cider was stored in the cellar, then all three of them returned to the empty cart.

Keith took a step away, apparently determined to leave and go about whatever he was doing before Mistress Holt called him over, but Lance interrupted, "So, Keith, are you going to Winternight this year, or are you avoiding it like last year's?"

Keith looked at Lance. "Why do you care?" he asked.

Lance leaned against the cart, apparently nonchalant, but Hunk knew him well enough to know he was faking. "Oh, _I_ don't care if you go or not," said Lance, "though I think I prefer that you didn't, but, well, some scary things have been around."

Hunk stared at Lance; that had been the last thing that he expected.

"Scary things?" Keith said, his expression dubious as he pinned his eyes on Lance.

"Yeah," said Lance, "so maybe, instead of being off on your own, it would be safer if everyone...was in one place."

Now that Hunk looked closely, Lance seemed...rattled. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, and his hand kept going to his bow, even lingering for a few seconds before he seemed to grow conscious of the tic and cross his arms instead.

Keith mirrored Lance's pose, though he stood straight, if a little hunched over. "Like what kind of scary things?" He did not sound like he disbelieved Lance, but Hunk could not tell if he believed him either.

"Oh, you know, the scariest." Lance gestured with his hands, demonstrating something large. He looked at Hunk. "I tried to tell you about it earlier, before Mistress Holt and my dad interrupted."

Hunk's eyes widened. "Oh," he said. "Wait, did you feel like you were being watched too?"

"Yes!" said Lance.

But Hunk now watched for Keith's reaction, and was not disappointed when he stiffened, clenching his hands enough that his knuckles turned white. "You too?" he asked, gently.

Keith looked at Hunk and nodded, then turned to Lance. "Tell us _exactly_ what you saw."

\---

**== Hardest of Hearts ==**

They arrived in Garrison Field about an hour before sunset. It was tiny, barely worthy of being called a town, but it was also bustling with the preparations for some kind of early spring festival, giving it the impression of a lively settlement.

The atmosphere was charged, tense. To Allura it felt like a storm was gathering, soon to break, despite the clear blue sky.

"Pardon me," Allura said to a woman passing by with a small child strapped to her back and a bundle of cloth in her arms. "Which way to the inn?"

The woman pointed ahead. "Straight down the main street," she said, barely sparing Allura and Coran a glance. "It's called the Falling Star; you'll want to ask for Colleen Holt."

"Thank you," said Allura, leading her horse ahead of the woman, Coran right behind her.

"How quaint," Coran commented once they were more or less alone, his eyes curiously scanning the rows of neat, peaked roof cottages and shops. "Primitive perhaps, but quaint."

Allura spared her companion a smile. "I hope you'll keep that observation to yourself, Coran."

"Of course, Allura," said Coran. "I'll be on my best behavior."

Allura's smile widened; Coran could always manage to put one on her face, no matter how black her mood, no matter how dire their mission.

They finally came to the inn, a three-story building - the tallest in the village - with a sign reading 'The Falling Star' pitched in front of its green door.

Allura was about to hand her horse's reins off to Coran when she spotted three teenagers standing outside the inn, near an empty cart. They appeared to be in the midst of an important, animated discussion, with a tall, lanky boy gesturing wildly while his two companions listened, interjecting occasionally.

She exchanged a glance with Coran. "I have a feeling about them," she admitted carefully. "About their...quintessence."

"Let's tie up the horses and speak with them," said Coran. They found a post intended for that very purpose outside the inn, and after taking care of them, they approached the three boys.

"...so scared in my life," the broadest of the boys was saying, visibly shivering.

"But you're always scared," said the lanky one, patting him on the shoulder.

"You just admitted you were scared too," said the shortest one.

Before he could retort, Allura cleared her throat, interrupting. "If I might inquire," she said, careful to keep her tone friendly, "what festival are you preparing for?" She wasn't particularly curious about that, but she needed an excuse to speak to them.

The three of them turned to her, and Allura noted that the lanky one blushed under her scrutiny. "That would be....Winternight," he said, running his fingers through his short hair.

"Last night before spring," added the broadest.

"Is there anything dangerous in the area though?" she wondered. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, you see."

"No, nothing dangerous here, Lady," said the lanky boy. He smiled at her, apparently recovering from his blushing, and ignored the elbow that the black-haired boy jabbed into his ribs.

"Well, regardless, thank you for the information," said Allura. "I hope to see you again before we leave. I am Allura, and this is my traveling companion Coran." She rested her hand on Coran's shoulder. "And who might I have the honor of speaking with?"

"I'm Lance," said the lanky one; he was blushing again, despite his wide grin.

"Hunk," said the broadest, smiling cautiously.

"Keith," said the shortest, without a hint of friendliness.

Allura couldn't help but be the slightest bit disappointed. Since none of their quintessences particularly jumped out at her - though all three were remarkably strong, and colorful - she would not be able to identify the _exact_ one she needed. And to be faced with three _youths_ \- one blushing, one anxious, one taciturn - was disheartening.

Still, it was better to be _sure_. She reached into a pouch at her belt and withdrew three silver coins, knowing each one was more wealth than what almost anyone that lived and died in this backwater was likely to see at any single time. "I am grateful for all your help, and for your names." She smiled at them and gave each one a coin, carefully placing it in their palms.

"Oh, thank you, Lady!" the lanky one - Lance - said, pinching the silver coin between his fingers.

The black-haired boy - Keith - stared at the coin, almost suspiciously, while the bulky one - Hunk - examined Allura herself, before his eyes swiveled to Coran standing watchfully at her shoulder. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, when a short girl emerged from the inn.

"What are you doing standing around here?" she asked.

Allura stared at the girl and recognized something in her immediately. A spark of quintessence, not yet nurtured, and possibly deadly if not. _And_ she was close in age to the boys as well.

"Hello," Allura greeted her before any of the boys could answer her. "Perhaps you can give me some directions; I am looking for Colleen Holt."

The girl turned her attention to Allura and Coran, gaze sharp. She nodded towards the building behind her. "My mother's in the inn, but if you want a room you'll have to wait till after the council meeting."

Keith immediately spun around at her. "Did you hear anything?" he demanded. "Will they send anyone?"

The girl grimaced. "I tried," she admitted, "but Mom knows all my tricks now." She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"So you're also a Holt?" Allura asked.

"Katie," said the girl, nodding.

"Or Pidge," interrupted Lance. "We call her Pidge." He ruffled her hair affectionately, and though she shoved his hand away, she still smiled slightly.

"Well, thank you for the help, Pidge," said Allura. She pulled another coin from the pocket of her cloak, surprised she needed it, and for a girl at that. But there _was_ something odd about her... "Thank you for the tip." She held out the coin.

Pidge looked at it, then accepted it. "All I did was tell you my mother was too busy to give you a room," she said, sounding confused.

"Just take the coin, Pidge," said Keith.

"Or you can give it to me," Lance offered.

"No, it's mine now," said Pidge, slipping it into a pocket in her skirts. She looked at Allura. "And you are?"

"Allura," she said, bobbing a curtsy. "And this is Coran."

"Pleasure," said Coran, inclining his head politely.

The four teenagers stared at them. All of them looked quite confused.

"Lady, no offense," said Hunk, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, "but what are you doing here, in Garrison Field? The festival is tomorrow, and that's nice, but we're kind of..."

"Nowhere," said Keith.

"A very nice nowhere," Lance mumbled, elbowing him.

Keith retaliated, but before it could blow up into a real fight, Pidge stepped between them. "Hunk's right though," she said. "There's not much special in Garrison Field."

"Well, you never know what you might find," Allura said. She smiled at them one last time, then bade them farewell and a happy Winternight.

As they wandered about the town, wiling away the time until they could return to the inn and request a room from the occupied innkeeper, Coran asked, "You think it's one of them?"

"I know it is," Allura said, confident in her decision for once.

\---

**== Only if for a Night ==**

As soon as the strange woman and her ginger-mustached companion were out of sight, Pidge reached into her pocket and pulled out the silver coin. Her finger traced the mint, curious; it wasn't one she recognized from the money she handled at the inn, nothing that any of the merchants or peddlers staying there had ever paid with.

"Well that was strange," Keith said, squinting at his own coin.

"You think this is pure silver?" Lance wondered.

"Looks like it," said Hunk, frowning.

"Who are they?" Keith asked, staring after the two strangers. He slipped the coin into his pocket.

"No idea, but she's gorgeous."

Pidge and Keith both nudged Lance in the ribs, scowling at him.

He yelped. "What was that for? I'm just making an observation!"

"I've never seen a mustache that orange before," Hunk said, touching his own upper lip. "What if I grew a mustache?"

Pidge exchanged a glance with Lance, and they burst into laughter. Even Keith cracked a smile. Hunk, though, looked a little put out by their mirth.

"Altea," read Pidge, looking once more at the coin. Something like a motto arched over the head of a lion in a language she didn't recognized, and now that she paid more attention, there were flecks of blue-green tarnish on the coin, as if it hadn't been polished in a while.

"What's that, Pidge?" Hunk asked, glancing at her.

"The coin's mint," she said, pointing. "It sounds familiar." She looked between the three of them; Lance and Keith shrugged, but Hunk seemed thoughtful.

Pidge flipped the coin over to see an image of a castle with four narrow turrets. Underneath was what looked like a date. A very _old_ date.

"Huh," she said, but by then the boys lost interest in the coins and were already moving on to whatever conversation they had before Allura and Coran interrupted.

"It was eerily quiet," Lance explained, rubbing his arms as if cold. "No birdsong, no squirrels, nothing."

"It was like that when I saw it too," said Hunk, while Keith nodded agreement.

"Saw what?" asked Pidge.

"Tall, dark, and _creepy_ ," said Lance, stretching his arms up and down as far apart as he could.

"The wind didn't move its cloak," Keith said.

"That is..." Pidge didn't know what that was. The conversation was making her uneasy, and she didn't want to believe them. But she had to; whatever they had seen, the fact that all three of them saw it was significant.

"Where is it now?" she asked.

"The Shadow only knows," Keith said darkly.

Pidge's mind was buzzing with information. She couldn't help but suspect that everything _strange_ that happened in the last year was connected, up to and including the peddlers' news of a far away war and the silver coin burning a hole in her pocket.

She turned her head to glance at the inn's green door, scowling. Her mother agreed with her, of course she did, but Pidge didn't doubt for a second that she wouldn't be able to sway the council. They were a bunch of old-fashioned old men, and strange happenings or not none of them would want to step a foot out of town even if it meant finding answers.

Finding _family_.

Pidge felt eyes on her and turned back to see Keith staring between her and the door. He knew exactly how she felt, how the fate of their families seemed to hang in the balance of something as inconsequential as a council meeting, and she read the unspoken suggestion in his gaze.

Sneak in?

Shadow take the consequences, Pidge thought. Her family was more important than Garrison Field's rules.

Ignoring Lance's and Hunk's chatter, she started to sneak around the inn to the kitchen's back door, Keith on her heels.

A shout from the main street stopped them both in their tracks, and the furious thudding of hooves stormed down the packed dirt path. Pidge looked towards the commotion to see a disheveled man in ragged clothing driving an exhausted horse directly to the inn. He pulled the poor animal up just short of where they stood and looked straight at Pidge.

"Katie," he said, voice hoarse from something like disuse, "I need to speak to your mother."

Before Pidge could react, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Keith darted forward first, to get a better look at the man, and when Pidge finally unfroze from her spot, she, Lance, and Hunk followed.

Hunk grabbed the horse's reins, speaking to it in a soothing voice, while Keith put two finger's to the man's throat, checking for a pulse.

"It's Shiro."

\---

**== What Kind of Man ==**

"Was that strange, Coran?" Allura asked, her eyes still on the road where the ragged man had galloped past on a horse almost dead on its hooves moments ago.

"It was very strange, Princess," Coran confirmed.

Allura, troubled anew, didn't bother correcting him about using her title in public, nor did she tell him of the livid violet quintessence the man trailed like a fire shed sparks. Instead, she led the way back in the direction of the Falling Star, knowing that he was heading there, to the town center. On her way though she decided to chat with a few of the villagers, to understand what, exactly, could be happening.

The first place she stopped was the bakery, under the pretense of sampling a carrot cake.

"We've only barely heard of the war in the east, Lady," said the young man at the counter as he handed her the cake.

"An Arusian war wouldn't bother Arusian farmers?" she asked him, passing him a coin.

He took the coin - different from the ones she gave Pidge, Lance, Keith, and Hunk earlier - and said, carefully and with the slightest hint of shame, "We're so far from anywhere _really_ important."

"You'll be safe then?" Allura wondered, smiling.

"Oh, of course!" he said. "Even if strange things _have_ happened lately."

Allura raised an eyebrow. "What kind of things?"

"Well, there's--"

"Boy!" a woman called from the back.

"Sorry, that's my mother," said the man. "She'll need my help."

"Of course," said Allura, and she left the bakery, meeting Coran outside. "Did you learn anything?"

Coran stroked his mustache. "The innkeeper, Colleen Holt, has a son as well as a daughter."

"And?" Allura knew he wouldn't mention such an innocuous piece of information unless he thought it important.

"He and her husband - and another man as well - left Garrison Field shortly after news of the war started trickling in," he explained.

"Who was the other man?"

"Hmm, he's the only foreigner that lives - or _lived_ \- here," said Coran. "Shirogane, they said."

"Shirogane?" said Allura, taken off-guard. She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her face. " _Shiro_?"

"Yes?" said Coran. "Did you know him, Princess?"

Allura inhaled deeply. "By the Light, I thought he was dead."

"To hear the villagers tell it," Coran admitted, "he is."

"No, Coran, you don't understand," said Allura, grabbing him by the arm. "I thought he died _years_ ago, during the Marmora War. The last time I saw him, his face was sliced open." She touched the bridge of her nose, imagining she could feel a ghost of a scar that wasn't even hers.

"Are you sure it is the same man?" Coran asked.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "We need to know more."

Allura and Coran split up again. She shared her cake with a few children playing in a fountain and learned - doubtlessly from gossip gleaned from their parents - that the village council was meeting to discuss the far off war and the missing Holts.

And that this 'Shirogane' had a younger brother.

"Who is he?" she told one of the children. "I should very much like to talk to him."

"Oh," said the girl, skimming her feet on the water. "It's Keith."

" _Keith_?"

She nodded. "My dad thinks he's strange too," she told Allura confidentially. "Even stranger than Shiro."

"Strange how?" Allura asked.

The girl shrugged. "He seemed nice enough to me," she said, "and I always thought he was lonely. But no one liked talked to him."

 _Why?_ Allura wanted to ask, but she knew the girl wouldn't be able to tell her.

If no one liked talking to Keith, why had the other two boys - Lance and Hunk - and Pidge been talking to him almost comfortably? How was it all _connected_? Did the foreigner Shirogane bring his brother with him, or was he born in the village?

"The answer I need," Allura muttered, quietly enough the girl didn't hear her. "Thank you, child."

"Oh, you're welcome Lady!" the girl said, grinning at her before rejoining her friends.

Allura found Coran approaching her. "Anything new?" she asked him.

"News of war trickles in," Coran said, summarizing. "The Holts and Shirogane leave, expecting to return within a few months, but more than a year passes and they do not."

"Shirogane is a foreigner, undoubtedly," Allura mused. "But he seems to have a brother."

"Shirogane and his brother largely kept to themselves," said Coran. "I'm sorry, Princess, but I didn't get a name."

"That's all right," she told him. "I have one; Keith."

"Keith? Well, Shirogane had a bit of a reputation." Coran smirked, thumbing his mustache. "He didn't like talking about himself, but thanks to a scar on his face he reportedly was a veteran of the Marmora War."

There was little doubt to Allura now: Shiro and this Shirogane were one and the same.

"Does the brother have a reputation?"

"Oh, yes," said Coran. "Quite the fighter, apparently wins almost every sparring contest held on festival days, for his age group. But not all the fights are, shall we say, approved."

"He picks fights?" Allura felt a pang of disappointment; the last thing she wanted was for the one she looked for to be _unstable_ already.

"Oh, no," said Coran. "The way I understand it is that he's awfully easy to provoke."

"Hmm. And we don't know where he was born?"

"No. Do you think it's him, Princess?"

"I don't know," she said, although she was becoming more and more convinced. But that still didn't explain the strength of Lance's, Hunk's, and Pidge's individual quintessences. "This may be more complicated than we thought, Coran."

"Life always is," he said, offering a comforting smile in reply.

She returned it.

The sky was dark, the sun having set while they meandered about the town looking for answers, so they headed back towards the Falling Star. Allura found herself wondering about the man that dashed through so frantically on horseback, about the alarm he created in his wake.

It was such a sleepy village, despite the festival; she would hate for its peace to be disrupted by chaos.

Then screams rose out of the darkness on the north side of town, which was bordered by a forest steadily sloping upwards into a range of mountains. Beastly bellows followed the screams, and Allura and Coran stared at each other in alarm as they recognized the cries. They ran in that direction, right towards the danger, and Allura pushed down her fear as she raced to confront an ancient enemy.

Galra.

\---

**== Seven Devils ==**

Keith sat on the floor outside Shiro's room, leaning against the wall. He could hear voices downstairs, of the council meeting breaking up, disrupted by his reappearance.

Reappearance after over a year away. Minus an arm and the Holts.

Mistress Holt and Pidge were both downstairs, shooing the other council members away. Lance and Hunk had also left as soon as Mistress Holt settled Shiro into a bed, eager to return to their own families. Snatches of conversation drifted upstairs to Keith, not enough that he could string syllables into even a single complete sentence, but a few words were repeated.

'Strange.' 'War.' 'Dragon.'

That last one was new, even in the last year, something that Keith remembered hearing only a handful of times during his childhood, when Master Holt kept the inn alongside his wife and told stories to the village children on balmy summer evenings after they tired of catching fireflies.

"The Dragon Reborn?" he would say, puffing on his pipe as he lit it. "That's a story even Shiro's heard back east." And Shiro would laugh, but there would be a hint of discomfort in his eyes; Shiro never liked to talk about _before_.

Now Shiro lay unconscious in an unfamiliar bed, while Keith sat outside waiting for him to wake up. His right arm gone, his hair far whiter than it was only a year ago. And the Light only knew what he suffered in that year.

Keith's stomach clenched with guilt; could he have found Shiro sooner - soon enough that he would still be whole, at least physically - if he had left Garrison Field like he wanted?

He stiffened at the sound of footsteps, only to recognize Pidge approaching. "Do you think he knows anything about them?" she asked, staring at Shiro's doorway.

"Who?"

"My father," she said, "my brother." She hugged herself, hands rubbing her arms as if she was cold.

"You can ask him when he wakes up," he reassured her.

Pidge finally looked at him, the slightest hint of accusation in her eyes. Jealousy, he thought, wondering why his family returned while hers was still missing. Another reason to feel guilty.

Keith stood. "Look, Pidge--"

"Katie!" a shout came from downstairs. "Keith!" Mistress Holt ran up the stairs. "The village is under attack." She grabbed Pidge's arm. "Let's go, into the cellar!"

"What?" Pidge said, going along with her mother.

"Under attack? By whom?" Keith asked, following. If they were under attack, he would need a weapon, which he needed to go home to get.

"Monsters," said Mistress Holt, fear and awe in her voice.

"Monsters?"

Then Keith heard the screams and the yells from outside, along with something more beastly, like a bear growling or a lion roaring.

"Both of you, go downstairs," said Mistress Holt, practically shoving her daughter towards the kitchen.

Pidge fought her. "What? No!"

"What about Shiro?" Keith demanded.

"I'll bring him," she said. "Go!" She pointed towards the kitchen door. Then she turned and returned upstairs, directing a village councilor to help her bring Shiro.

Keith exchanged a glance with Pidge, and on silent agreement they ran out the kitchen door and past the cellar entrance. He could see several cottages on fire in the village, and as they got closer to the center of the battle, the screams became louder.

The monsters - huge purple-furred beasts with gleaming yellow eyes - did not seem to be attacking people so much as destroying structures. But Keith didn't give himself the chance to ask why; instead he ran towards his - and Shiro's - house.

"Wait! Keith!" he heard Pidge call behind him as she struggled to keep up.

He ignored her. But when he got to his cottage, he saw, to his dismay, that the fire was licking up the walls, the smoke already curling from the windows.

Keith entered anyway, intent on retrieving a weapon. He left his cloak behind outside and shoved through the soot-stained door, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve. The smoke stung at his eyes, but he didn't let it bother him.

He could already imagine Shiro lecturing him on valuing his own safety; the thought almost made him smile.

Keith found his knife easily enough, stored in a chest in his bedroom. It was the only tie he had to wherever he was from, something he owned for as long as he could remember. Something that, despite its utility, Shiro never allowed him to carry outside around the village.

It was one of the few things Shiro had absolutely and rigidly forbidden him.

Keith ran outside and right into Pidge, who held him up as he coughed, his mouth tasting of soot and smoke.

"You're an idiot," she told him.

"I need a weapon," he said simply.

"Keith, look out!" Pidge yelled.

He turned, then pushed her out of the way as he faced down a monster. Its furry ears stood up like a cat's, fangs glinting nastily in the light of the torch it held in its clawed hand. It stood at least three feet taller than him.

Keith charged it anyway, his knife out.

It bellowed, swinging at him with a spiked club. He ducked until he was inside its reach and swiped up with its knife, ramming it into flesh in a gap in the armor.

The monster wildly swung its arms, trying to grab him as it died, its steaming blood oozing from its throat. Keith withdrew his knife and backed away quickly, out of the reach of its club. It fell, groaning, but before he could make sure it was finished, the air started to feel charged, its scent electric rather than smoky. Keith felt his hair stand on end as a fork of white lightning split the sky and struck the ground where the purple beasts were thickest.

They scattered and started trumpeting their alarm right as thunder rumbled and more lightning fell upon them. A ball of fire struck several of them in the chests, leveling them where they stood. The rest of them turned tail and fled, and within minutes they were gone, the only sign that Garrison Field was ever invaded the cottages still burning, and the beautiful white-haired woman standing over the corpses of three felled monsters, her face livid with anger and disgust.

"Allura," Keith said. Beside him, Pidge only nodded, her eyes wide with shock.

"She's a...channeler," she said, quietly.

As fantastical as this development was, in that moment Keith only felt relief, and the need to be at Shiro's bedside. So he sprinted away back towards the Falling Star, his knife still in hand, with Pidge right behind him muttering to herself about his _impatience_.

He ran up the stairs, but paused outside of Shiro's room. Mistress Holt stood there, and she turned to regard him - and Pidge as soon as she caught up - sternly.

"I told you to hide in the cellar," she said.

"The village was under attack," said Pidge.

"Yes, which is why you were to _hide in the cellar_."

"We wanted to defend it," Keith explained. "Can I see Shiro?"

Mistress Holt glared between him and her daughter, then sighed. "Yes, but he's still asleep." She left, briefly resting a hand on his shoulder as she passed. He overheard her tell Pidge to stay outside the door in case they needed anything.

Keith wiped his knife clean on the hem of his shirt, grimacing in distaste as the fabric burned with the monster's toxic blood, then tied it to his belt. He slowly opened the door. Inside, there was a fire in the hearth, a sight that left a bit of a sour taste in his mouth after seeing the fires still being fought in the village. But otherwise the room was dark. He found the chair at the bedside easily enough though and sat.

Shiro stirred, and Keith stiffened, leaning towards him. "Shiro?" he said.

"Keith?" he said, voice faint. His eyes opened, a sliver of white and a shining black.

Keith reached forward to clasp his hand. "You're back," he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. _I'm glad you're back_ seemed to weak, _I missed you_ too simple, _What happened to your arm?_ too forward.

"Yes, I'm back," said Shiro, smiling. "For however long."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Keith demanded. "You...you look terrible! You can't leave again!" He could've smacked himself for his careless words, but they were true. Shiro looked like he'd been to the heart of the Shadow and back, with his shaggy white-streaked hair, his wan complexion, his missing arm...

"Maybe not now, but..." He sighed, squeezing Keith's hand. "The Shadow rises again. I needed to find Mistress Holt, and to find...someone else." He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing. "I can't remember who..."

The door swung open, light flooding into the room, causing Shiro to shield his eyes. Pidge stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. "The Dragon Reborn?" she asked.

Keith shot her a glare, wondering why she wanted to interrupt.

Then, to his surprise, Shiro replied, "Yes, that's exactly who." His voice was sure, confident. "The Dragon Reborn."

"I thought the Dragon Reborn was a myth," said Keith.

"Oh, he's very real," interrupted a new voice.

Annoyed, Keith looked up at the newcomer and saw none other than Allura herself, Mistress Holt irritably looking into the room from over her shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Shiro glanced towards the new interruption, and to his surprise, Keith saw recognition in his eyes. Allura, for her part, frowned, her fingers tapping against her thigh.

"I suppose I have some explaining to do."

\---

**== Dog Days Are Over ==**

Allura slumped, exhausted, as the Galra retreated back into the woods towards the mountains. Coran stood beside her, hand on the hilt of his sword, still alert as they were when they first spotted the charging monsters.

Calling lightning from the sky was always an extreme effort, especially if there was no thundercloud overhead, already prepared to discharge its load. But now there was one, still rumbling with thunder, a light drizzle only just beginning to douse the fires still burning in the village.

"I am troubled, Coran," she admitted quietly. "Galra attacking such a small, secluded village?"

"One where the Dragon Reborn himself may live?" he pointed out.

"The Shadow knows," Allura realized, dread creeping over her. "Zarkon knows."

"Princess, the villagers," Coran muttered to her, interrupting.

Allura looked in the direction he indicated, towards the people now gathering nearby, though they still gave her a wide berth. Their eyes were suspicious, but some at least looked a little grateful, if in a cautious way.

"A channeler," said one man, accusingly.

"A witch," another added, glaring.

"A princess!" Coran retorted.

A hush fell over the bristling mob, and Allura resisted the urge to glare at Coran, who shuffled beside her, likely ashamed of his angry outburst. Oh well, time to address them lest they grow angry enough to harm anyone.

"I think you have suffered enough injury tonight," Allura told them, her voice raised so that they could hear her.

"Is that a threat?" one demanded.

"No," she said. "But yes, I can channel quintessence, as can many other women in the world, and let me assure you that despite politics and the suspicions of...some folk, we have done far more good than harm." She had been sorely tempted to use a far less polite word than 'some folk', but was glad she was diplomatic enough to refrain.

"But...princess?" a woman in the crowd asked.

"Princess of a fallen kingdom," said Allura, unable to keep the grief from her voice.

"What? Where?" they all started to demand, right as another woman burst through the crowd and stood before them.

"Shame on you!" she practically growled. "Shame on all of you! This woman saved our village tonight and you have the audacity to suspect her of ill will?" The mob rustled uneasily, but the newcomer plowed on. "Everyone go home! Hug and kiss your children, thank the Light for your lives and livelihoods, and leave this woman alone!"

To Allura's shock, the crowd dispersed, obeying the woman with only some grumbling. Then the woman turned to her. "I'm Colleen Holt, the innkeeper," she said. "You are travelers...Princess?"

Allura grimaced at the title but didn't deny it. "Yes, I am Allura," she said, "and this is my companion Coran." Coran nodded politely at the innkeeper.

"Follow me," said Mistress Holt, leading the way to the Falling Star.

"Mistress Holt, may I ask a question?" Allura wondered, turning to her once they were standing in the inn's small entryway.

Mistress Holt wiped sweat and soot from her brow, offering her an exhausted smile. "Princess, this village owes you its entire livelihood," she said.

Allura fidgeted, a little uncomfortable with her gratitude in the face of most of the villagers' suspicions. "It was...anyone would have done the same," she said, smiling.

Mistress Holt looked skeptical at that, but she said, "Please, Princess, ask anything."

"Pidge is your daughter?"

"Pidge?" said Mistress Holt, looking confused for a minute. "Oh, Katie! Yes, she is."

"And her friends? Do you know them?"

"Lance and Hunk?" She frowned, expression thoughtful. "Yes, but why?"

"Actually," Allura admitted, "I was more curious about Keith. Where was he bor--"

"Mom!" a shout interrupted from just upstairs. Pidge came running down the stairs, eyes sparkling with eagerness. "Shiro's awake."

"Excuse me," said Mistress Holt, bowing her head to Allura before following her daughter back towards Shiro's room.

Allura, frustrated, decided to follow. She would need to speak with Shiro as well, as soon as possible.

How would he react to seeing her again, she wondered?

\---

**== Long & Lost ==**

Shiro struggled to sit up and balance with only a single arm, wanting to at least be alert to see the intruders.

He recognized Katie Holt, just inside the doorway, though she was taller than he remembered. And Colleen Holt stood in the hall, anxious and annoyed. And right in the doorway, her figure casting a shadow into the room, was Allura, as fearless and regal as he remembered.

"The Dragon Reborn is _real_?" Katie said, breaking the tense silence as she stared at Allura.

"Yes," said Allura. "And I have reason to believe he lives here, in Garrison Field."

Shiro did not look at Keith. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on Allura as she entered the room. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice coming out as more hostile than he'd intended.

Allura, for her part, didn't seem hurt by his tone. Instead she raised an eyebrow at him. "Coran and I have come looking for him, but it seems..." She inhaled, bracing herself. "It seems I've found him...and four other Paladins besides."

"Who...?" said Colleen, stepping into the room to stand beside her daughter.

"Pidge," said Allura, ignoring Colleen and turning to Katie, "I need you to find Lance and Hunk. We will need to leave by dawn."

"What?" said Pidge. "Lance doesn't even live in the village."

"What do you mean _leave by dawn_?" demanded Colleen.

"I will explain everything to you, Mistress Holt," said Allura, then she looked at Shiro. "And to you. But first, I need Lance and Hunk to be here; they're as much a part of this as Pidge, or Keith, or Shiro."

Shiro clenched his fist, tightly gripping his blanket. "Allura, what is going on?" he asked.

"You know each other?" Keith wondered.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Allura.

Shiro frowned. It was just what he'd feared: that he would have to leave so soon after returning. But he would have to take Keith and three others with him.

And Sam and Matt were still captives of the Shadow...

"Fine, you will explain after Lance and Hunk are here," Colleen said, tone brooking no argument. She turned to her daughter. "Katie, Lance and his father never had a chance to leave before the attack; they should be with Hunk's family helping with repairing the forge."

Katie looked like she wanted to argue, but at a look from both Allura and her mother, she left to do as they asked.

"Tell me, Mistress Holt," said Allura, "whose houses were set on fire?"

Colleen appraised her, and even Shiro leaned forward, anticipating her answer. "The forge, that belongs to Hunk's family, but that fire spread the furthest; and I've already heard that Lance's family's farm was attacked as well." She sighed and looked at Shiro. "I'm afraid your cottage was also burned."

Shiro frowned at his single fist. At the moment, he could not bring himself to mourn his cottage; it was, after all, over a year since he stepped foot inside.

Keith rested a hand on his arm, and Shiro glanced at him. He smiled; troubled as he was, he'd rather Keith not worry. At least for now.

He knew though that soon there would be more than enough worry to go around.

Colleen then left, saying something about making tea, but Allura stayed, approaching his bedside. He could feel her eyes on his face and guessed she looked for features that she recognized. He was even more grateful for Keith's presence; without him here, with only he and Allura in the room, the atmosphere would be stifling.

Keith broke the silence by demanding, "How can Shiro leave? He's only just returned."

"I'm afraid it's safest - for him _and_ for Garrison Field - to leave as soon as possible," said Allura.

"How? He's in no condition to travel."

"No," Allura admitted. "Regretfully, he is not. But...I may be able to help." She sounded reluctant as she reached into a pouch on her belt. She withdrew a tiny statue, a ceramic figurine of a pale blue mouse. "With your permission, Shiro," said Allura, "I can replenish some of your strength."

"And what will that do to your strength, Princess?" he asked. From their previous partnership, he knew what channeling quintessence cost her.

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Little enough," she said.

"Do it then," he said. He closed his eyes as she pressed two fingers to his forehead. Warmth and vitality filled his limbs, more than he had felt in what seemed like months. He curled and uncurled his fingers, a pleasant tingle in his blood. And when he opened his eyes again, he no longer felt weak.

In fact, he felt strong again, despite his missing arm.

Allura pocketed the mouse figurine, more fatigue around her eyes than was there before his surge in strength. Keith stared back and forth between them, as if they were a puzzle he was trying to figure out, but before he could ask anyone, Colleen returned with a tea tray, Katie and two boys that Shiro recognized right behind her.

"Shiro!" said Lance, grinning. "You're awake."

Shiro smiled. "I am."

"What happened to your--"

Katie elbowed Lance in the ribs, halting his question. He rubbed his abdomen, glaring at her.

Shiro smiled even wider at the familiar spectacle, then frowned. "To be honest, I don't remember."

Colleen stared at him, and he knew she was dying to ask about her husband and son. She set the tea tray on a side table, then looked at Allura. "You will explain now?"

No title, no honorific. Colleen was impatient.

"Yes," said Allura, sighing heavily. She accepted a cup of tea but didn't sip from it. Instead, she said, "Those Galra attacked today because they are looking for the Dragon Reborn."

"He's real?" Hunk asked.

"We already established this," Katie grumbled.

"We weren't here for that part," Lance retorted.

"Let her explain," said Shiro, shooting them a glance.

"He is very real," said Allura, "and he lives in this village. So the Shadow sends their beasts to attack and find him."

"Who is he?" Keith asked.

Allura looked at him, then at Lance, and at Hunk. Shiro looked at Katie, noting the way her eyes darted between the three boys as well. "I cannot be certain," said Allura at last. "But I have reason to believe the Shadow suspects it is one of you."

"What?" said Hunk, while Lance's eyes widened as he gestured to himself. Keith, for his part, only looked confused.

"Is this why that hooded thing was following us?" he asked.

Allura spun around to look at Keith. "What?" she demanded. "What hooded thing?"

Lance glanced at Keith, then at Allura. "Very tall, hooded, and its cloak didn't move at all, even in the wind."

Shiro sensed Allura's alarm as she looked from Keith, to Lance, to Hunk. "Did you see it too?" she asked.

"Yes," Hunk admitted.

Allura inhaled sharply. "Druids," she said. "Agents of the Shadow, even worse than Galra." She rubbed her face, her poise slipping. "This is even worse than I thought."

Katie's eyes were now fixed on Keith, but her gaze swiveled over to Allura, attentive. Shiro had always known that Katie, despite her lack of social niceties, was perceptive, collecting facts and knowledge the way rich people collected wealth. If anyone could deduce something, it would be her.

For the first time since he woke up, Shiro felt anxiety creeping over him.

"Regardless of if one of you is the Dragon Reborn," Allura continued, as if Druids had never been brought up, "the Shadow will destroy Garrison Field to get to you. Which is why the three of you will come with me." Then she looked at Katie, and at Shiro. "And you two as well."

"Leave?" said Lance.

"?" said Colleen, standing beside Katie.

"Leave?" said Hunk, his fingers steepling nervously.

Keith glanced at Shiro, who tipped his head towards Allura, who added, "There is no time to argue. We must leave by dawn."

"Princess Allura," said Colleen, "Katie is only sixteen."

"Mom--"

"And besides, I've already lost my husband and my son," she continued, "but you would ask me to give up my daughter as well?"

"It is for her sake I ask you to let her go," said Allura.

"They're not lost!" Katie retorted. Colleen looked at her, and despite being taller than her daughter, she seemed to shrink under her scrutiny. "I'll find them, and I'll bring them home. But to do that I have to leave."

Colleen stared at her for a minute longer, then excused herself. Everyone watched her go, stunned.

"But...my family," said Lance, interrupting the silence.

"And mine," added Hunk.

"This is for the best," Allura insisted.

Lance and Hunk exchanged glances, and Shiro remembered they had been friends, nearly inseparable, almost since they could walk. "We'll have to tell them," Lance said finally.

"There's no time," Allura said.

"Where are we going?" Hunk wondered.

"Altea," she said.

"Altea?" Shiro said. "Altea fell over a century ago."

A darkness drifted over Allura's features as she glared at nothing. "Which is why Zarkon won't expect it." She looked at each of them in turn, at Keith, at Katie, at Lance, at Hunk, before her eyes finally fell on Shiro. "Our fates ride with you, Shiro. What do you say?"

Shiro stared at her, before looking around at the others. They were still children to him, even though the boys were all old enough to be considered men. Especially Keith, who he watched grow up, though he never knew if he was more son or younger brother to him.

"What was that you used to tell me, Princess?" Shiro asked, injecting a trace of humor into his voice.

"I'm not sure," said Allura. "Refresh my memory."

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," said Shiro. He shoved his blankets aside and stood. Before they left, he would need to change. "But Princess, I need to insist they be allowed to say goodbye to their families. We don't know when they'll see them again."

Allura looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she nodded stiffly. "Very well," she said. "See what family you can and gather only what belongings you need for a journey. Meet at the inn's stables in an hour."

Lance and Hunk were quick to shuffle out of the room and downstairs, a certain excitement - the anticipation of an adventure, despite the events of the evening - following them. But inside, while Katie shifted uncomfortably and Keith toyed with the hilt of his knife, it was more subdued.

"Go find me a change of clothes," Shiro bid Keith, who nodded.

"I'm going to talk to my mother," said Katie, following him out.

He and Allura were left alone, a fact that, under ordinary circumstances, might have made him uncomfortable, but he didn't have time to consider that now. "And what will we do, in Altea?" he asked her.

"Learn," she said, looking him right in the eye, "and defy the Shadow."

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Can you tell I have an aversion to naming OCs?? 
> 
> (2) Why is Shiro s o h a r d to write?? Why is Coran always a background character??
> 
> (3) Also I know the coins never get mentioned again after Pidge is all suspicious but in _The Eye of the World_ they were used to track a few of the characters so...that's basically what they're for, if you were curious
> 
> (4) Will I ever write something that isn't cliffhanger-y and/or open-ended?? Will I ever write an action scene without wanting to tear my hair out of boredom at my own writing?? Will I ever stop relying too much on run-on sentences?? Tune in next time (if there is one) and find out!!
> 
> (5) Thanks for reading!!


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